codeine scene
by thistableforone
Summary: Her and her brain and her reverent hands and her childish smile and her feminine curves that remind her she's about to do something out of character.


"Stop me. Stop me, I'm going to regret this".

She manages to say it out loud, to let it fall out of her mouth ignoring the fact that it sounds wrong. It does but the other woman's body is moving against her and, no, that's probably the rightest thing she has ever allowed herself to do.

Except it should - be wrong - because she likes men, she likes-

Her. She likes her, her.

Her and her brain and her reverent hands and her childish smile and her feminine curves that remind her she's about to do something out of character.

"Fight me, Maura".

She tries again but her own hands slide under the fabric of the silky, white shirt Maura is wearing and it's clear that her moral values are resisting her will. She tests the line of Maura's back, the valley between her shoulder blades and then down, down, til her hands can tighten in the soft flesh of her thighs.

A whine makes its way up her throat when her wrists get pinned on the matress, her fingers closing around nothing now. She asked for this. She asked to be resisted, she demanded the other woman to stop her movements, her feelings, too, possibly.

But Maura teases her mouth along her lips, never quite giving in, giving her a way to seek it on her own. She wants her to want this and to actually be aware of it. She wants her to admit to herself that she just can't fight her own body and the chemical substances floating in it.

She wants her to dismiss her past believes and convinctions and just surrender on her own volition.

She presses her down, feels the flex on Jane's wrists under her hands when she grazes her neck with her mouth. Jane arches toward her and she retreats, a little smirk on her face that makes Jane restless.

"I want-", she hears her say, but it's not merely enough to let her go, even if she perfectly knows what Jane means.

"What do you want, Jane?".

"You. You. I don't care who I am or who I'm supposed to be, just- I can't fight you".

And she lets her go and Jane's hand presses against her neck and forces her down, her mouth opening and finally, finally, kissing hers.

Her hands travel along Jane's sides and grip under her knees, making her bend her legs, the obscene sounds of their lips standing out in the silence of the room.

She likes this. Being on top. Likes the idea of showing Jane how good it can be.

So she lets her mouth go and straightens her back, moves to sit on her own feet and look at her from above. She plays with the hem of her own shirt, Jane's eyes darting and studying her skin when she displaces it, letting it fall down her arms. She does the same with her bra and, this time, a hand skims her abdomen and up, along her sternum, between her breasts.

Jane sits up, her own fingers kneading and studying the tender mound of the other woman's flesh. And tasting. Tasting and she closes her eyes and manages not to cry but the feeling is overwhelming and why did she spend years denying this?

She sucks and kisses, pressing her hands on Maura's back to pull her closer because she's devastating and life changing and overpowering and she can't get enough of her now.

She feels Maura's hands unhook her bra, slowly draggind its straps down her arms. She never thought about this. Never thought it could have happened. But it is and kissing her and letting her touch is so easy, easier than it has ever been with anyone else.

She seeks her mouth and hands slightly pull at Jane's panties, Maura's knuckles brushing her hip bones and Jane returns the gesture, Maura's skin so tender she has the urge to kiss her there.

There and here and here.

They move to take off the last pieces of fabric, laugh at their clumsiness and kiss again. Kiss and kiss and touch and _yes_ because Maura rides her thigh and inches nearer.

She sees her thrust slowly, rubbing herself against her tentatively. And then again, more steadily, lifting Jane's legs with her arm and bending toward her.

She moves again and all Jane can do is plant her hands in her thighs and spur her on. She curses, letting her head fall back and her back arch.

It shouldn't affect her so much, the simple touch not enough to arouse on normal circumstances, but she's touching the woman she let insinuate in her, she's letting her grind on her. And the feeling is breathtaking.

The mixed emotions of making love to a woman - something she's always considered forbidden - and making it to _her_ make her lose focus _._

She's incapable of paying attention to everything she'd like to because Maura's pace increases, her own head falling downward, her hair hiding the redness of her cheeks.

"Hold back, Jane", her voice rough but sure, her hips and legs struggling to keep the thrusts even. "For as long as you can".

And Jane unbends her back, relaxes, her hands pushing Maura's hair out of her face, collecting it and gathering in one hand. Maura's muscles contracting ritmically to provide friction under her other hand, their eyes unfocused and raw.

Her vision's blurring and Maura's thrusts are losing their texture.

A rush of _fuck fuck fuck_ resonates in the air and she doesn't care who released it because her body is starting to lose stamina and she's coming against her lover.

Maura's frame shakes and her mouth opens on a soundless cry, her limbs struggling to thrust some more but failing. Her arms give out, her chest crushing to Jane's and she laughs.

Laughs and breathes and kisses her on her breastbone and Jane thinks she might combust at her workship.

She inhales and exhales multiple times, combs her fingers through the blonde, soft curls resting on her chest, Maura's leg hugging her naked torso.

"I thought Doctor Isles didn't swear", Jane's fingers tracing the line on Maura's side.

"Jane, curses have proven to be a very affective and easy foreplay. And when it's meant to arouse, it's dirty talk, not actual sw-".

She loses the point in between Jane's lips and accepts the teasing without replying because _she just found a new, very pratical way to shout her up_ and she doens't mind in the slightest.

* * *

 _With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean,  
she's the angel of small death and the codeine scene._

* * *

 _Prompt:_ _66 dot media dot tumblr dot com/9bcbffbfcd515d5196edfdb33a65b228/tumblr_nstznhAjxH1uotpyno1__


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